Jarrett calculated how long it would take before Korene or another motivated Vanguardian ran to Morgane and told her of his questionable escapades from the previous night. He flipped a mental hourglass in his head: the countdown between that moment and the one where Morgane would burst through the door of his cottage to question him.

I should have enough time to eat breakfast, at least. As he rummaged through his pantry, there was a knock at the front door. Insistent, furious knocking that didn’t cease when he called out, “Coming!”

He opened the door to see Morgane, who immediately pushed past him to enter the house.

“So?” was all she said. The angrier Morgane was, the fewer words she used.

He might have miscalculated, on a number of counts.

“Ravens? Alone?” Despite her short stature, Morgane filled the whole sitting room with her rage. “What were you thinking?”

“It’s something I had to do.”

“Elaborate.”

“You know better than to pry.”

Jarrett was well aware that Morgane believed everyone was entitled to their past. Such was the way in the Vanguard. You couldn’t be picky about who you included in your secret rebellion against a kingdom that had far greater resources.

“You’ve been my second-in-command for what, two seconds? And already, you’re running off, consorting with Ravens.” Though the disapproval in her tone was clear, she didn’t raise her voice. Morgane was good at keeping herself in check—something she and Jarrett didn’t have in common. “I need to trust you. So if I must pry, I will.”

“I can’t tell you why I went, but trust me when I say I’m sorry that I did.”

Morgane sank into a cushioned chair, deflated. Her eyes were bloodshot, and her skin was sickly pale. Her brown hair was frazzled, which was out of character for the ever-organized and put-together leader of the Vanguard.

“We’re responsible for these people. All of their lives are in our hands. And not just the lives of the Vanguard, but every mage in Saridian, every person who suffers under the Tyrant’s rule. You can’t take risks, you can’t run off to see the Ravens—alone—both because it’s dangerous and because it doesn’t look good to our soldiers to see you consorting with death cultists.”

Jarrett took a deep breath so he could give her a level response. “It won’t happen again.”

“What won’t happen again? Speaking to the Ravens, or having a lapse in judgment?”

Suddenly, Jarrett wasn’t hungry anymore. After his soul-crushing meeting with the Ravens, he had hoped to be numb to Morgane’s rebuffing. Turned out, as awful as he felt, he wasn’t immune to sinking even lower.

“Everything’s been going well. The new recruits are settling in, training across the Vanguard is going great, everything is calm and well-organized, and you know I’ve had a hand in that.” Jarrett’s voice grew louder, despite attempting restraint. “I know I made a bad decision. But nothing’s been ruined, and it won’t happen again—I swear to you. So please, let me have this one mistake.”

In the following silence, the wear on Morgane’s face struck him again. She looked far too exhausted for someone who wasn’t even out late at the celebration last night.

“Morgane. What’s going on? Are you still sick, or is this about something else?”

Morgane stood and pointed a finger at him forcefully. “I am pissed at you. And don’t you forget that. But there is more.” She stopped to clear her throat. “One of our informants came back last night. Soldiers are making some visits, and are going to be heading our way. They could be coming on a routine mage-hunt or evaluation—neither of which would be great—but worse, it’s possible they’ve picked up that Rosewood is our base.”

“What?”

“It’s a risk we’ve always run, you know that well enough.”

It was true; more people knew of the Vanguard than was ideal. Rosewood hadn’t always been theirs. Morgane took over the village’s leadership around when Jarrett had arrived there. She had carefully selected Rosewood as the ideal place to convert to a base of operations for the rebellion she was beginning. It was far enough from Kingsmount that there weren’t constant prying eyes—plus, an abnormally high amount of mages were born in this area. This made it a more sympathetic place to convert people into rebel agents, and thus, the Vanguard was born.

Of course, not all of Rosewood’s original residents were amenable to their cause. While Riordan’s reach this far south was weaker than near the capital, the punishment for treason was death. Thankfully, most of those who didn’t support the Vanguard simply left Rosewood, not wanting to incur the wrath of either side. Others, the Vanguard had been forced to pay off, intimidate into silence, or otherwise remove from the equation. While unpleasant, it’d been necessary. They had to think of the greater good.

Three years passed, miraculously, without incident. Well, not without incident, there had been close calls. More people who had to be silenced, one way or another. But somehow, they had evaded the notice of Kingsmount, other than routine check-ups and tax collection.

It would be all too easy for someone to betray them, or for a soldier or tax collector to see something they shouldn’t have. A peek into a training facility or an armory. A single whiff of the Vanguard’s recruitment of mages and all others who strained against the Tyrant’s reign.

If they had come so far, only to be discovered...

Jarrett ground his teeth together. He was sure of it now: his luck had run out.

“One way or another, a small contingent of soldiers is heading this way,” Morgane said. “I need you focused more than ever. If people start to think you’re a Raven sympathizer, that isn’t going to do us any favors in holding this together.”

Morgane was right. While she was bold enough to start a secret rebellion, she was also cautious enough to run a secret rebellion.

“I’ll be more careful. The Vanguard is my life, and I won’t put it at risk again.”

“Good,” Morgane said. She sat back down and motioned for Jarrett to do the same. He took a seat on the loveseat across from her. She eyed him appraisingly. “You’re my second and I have to trust you. I do trust you. So I won’t push you to tell me what your deal with the Ravens is. But, if you want to tell me… I won’t judge, whatever it is.”

“I’m just… I’m looking for something. That’s all.”

Morgane raised an inquisitive eyebrow at him. “Ah. Well then.”

“Morgane—” Jarrett started, but cut himself short. He hadn’t told anyone about his missing memories. It was difficult to explain his situation since he didn’t fully understand it himself. He also worried the tattoo would implicate him as being involved with the Ravens, which wouldn’t make him popular. But mostly, it just hurt too much to say aloud.

Morgane had been his friend long enough that he could have told her. He trusted her with his life. Truly, she was the only person who he’d allowed himself to get close to. When his memories had been ripped away, he’d found himself alone. His memories of his early life seemed intact, and he knew his family was long gone.

His adult life, on the other hand, was foggy at best. He’d found himself with no friends, at least not that he could remember. He feared that anyone he got close to now, that he would simply forget them. Lose them. He couldn’t shake off that trepidation.

Morgane watched him, her head tilted. “You know I’m here for you, Jarrett.”

“I know.” Jarrett swallowed, feeling the lump in his throat. “If soldiers are coming, we need to prepare.”

“That we do. We should disassemble our training facilities first. Hide all of our equipment, our arms and armor. Then we’ll set up as many defenses as we can without it being suspicious, in case it does come down to a fight.” She stood and paced the room. Her eyes flashed with a ferocity that reminded Jarrett that this woman’s determination had no bounds. “We’ll go over the plan together, and find some way through this. And the Ravens—we have to make sure they leave. Do you know what they want?”

“No. They’ll speak only with you.”

“Then you start the preparations, and I’ll arrange a meeting with the Ravens.”